When we at last found ourselves jostled up onto the balcony of that saloon which I spoke of once as one of the "toughest" houses in Baker City, that very saloon at the door of which I had beheld the sheriff of Baker City give an example of his "smartness," the throng was jostling in the street and crying out: "What’s the matter with Apache Kid?—He’s all right!" Both question and answer in this cry were voiced always in one, not one man crying out the question and another replying, and it made the cry seem very droll to me. Apache Kid was thrust to the front and the crowd huzzahed again and shouted: "Speech!" And others cried out: "Tell us about Farrell’s gang." So Apache Kid stepped to the rail and raised his head, and, "Gentlemen," he began, "this is a great honour to me;" and they all cried out again. "If it is not," said he, "it should be." I think the majority took this for humour and they laughed and wagged their heads and looked up smiling, for more. "When I think of how so shortly ago I merited your disapproval and now, instead of gaining that, am welcomed so heartily and effusively, I cannot but feel how deeply I am indebted to all the citizens—" he paused and I heard him laugh in his throat, "of our progressive and progressing city." They gave vent to a bellow of pleasure and some cried out again: "Farrell! Farrell! Tell us about Farrell." "I must appeal to the sense of propriety," he said, "for which our western country is famous. In the West we are all gentlemen." There was a cry of: "That’s what!" "And a gentleman never forces anyone to take liquor when he does not want to, never forces anyone to disclose his history when he does not want to. The gentleman says to himself, in the first instance, ’there is all the more for myself.’ In the second case he knows that his own past might scarcely bear scrutiny. Ah well! As we are all gentlemen here I know that with perfect reliance in you I can say that I had rather not speak about Farrell and his gang." There was a slight murmur at this. "There are men of the gang still in the territory. As you are now aware, it was they who came to you with a cock-and-bull story about me. In your desire to further law and order in this progressive Baker City you rightly decided that I must pay the penalty for the deed you believed that I had done." He paused a moment and then continued in another tone: "Now there is nothing I regret more than the sad death of Mr. Pinkerton. He was a man we all honoured and respected. I am glad you do not now believe that I was his slayer. With those who raised that calumny against me—should I meet them—I will deal as seems fit to me." A great cheer followed this. Apache Kid cleared his throat. "Men of Baker City!" he cried, "I wish, finally, to thank you for this so exuberant expression of your regret that you believed me guilty."